


hang us in the louvre

by kiranxrys



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Data (Star Trek)'s Emotion Chip, Data has emotions, Deanna Gives Emotional Advice, M/M, Picard Is Everyone's Dad, Prompt: First Date/Kiss, and you don't need a chip to do so!, coming to terms with the fact you - an android - may actually Feel, i don't respect canon when it comes to data and emotions ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25486327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranxrys/pseuds/kiranxrys
Summary: Data's emotion chip changes everything, just not in the way its creator intended. After all, Data has already grown far beyond the being his father ever imagined he would be.
Relationships: Data/Geordi La Forge
Comments: 18
Kudos: 179
Collections: Star Trek Bingo Summer 2020





	hang us in the louvre

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Star Trek Bingo Summer 2020 event.
> 
> I found the roots of this fic in an old google doc and decided to revive it, but it's been so long since I watched TNG I couldn't possibly tell you when it's supposed to be set - some time later in the show. Screw the emotion chip… Data has feelings! Title from 'The Louvre' by Lorde.

“And… there we go,” Geordi says. “It’s done.”

Data stares expectantly at the opposite wall. For a long moment, he sits there, waiting, until he is sure that no recognisable alteration has occurred. The functions of his positronic brain continue as he is accustomed to, individual clear-cut thoughts passing by while his less conscious controls operate his simulated breathing, his internal temperature, his casual movements. He is aware of Geordi’s apprehensive expression, like he is doubting whether the correct decision was just made. It becomes necessary to speak.

“I feel no different.”

He is not sure what he had been expecting. He had experienced multiple anticipatory dreams regarding the installation of his emotion chip, all of which had involved his having knowledge that inserting the chip would be the most significant moment of his ‘life’. That it would be some kind of dramatic moment of change, a flash of bright light that would alter the circumstances of his existence indefinitely, _positively._ But now it is there – he is aware of it – and everything appears to be the same.

Geordi does not seem to be too distressed by his words. “Well... you know, maybe it takes time,” he suggests. “You’ve changed a lot since I met you, developed even without the emotion chip. So maybe this is like that. A gradual process.”

Data tilts his chin, a tick he has never removed from his programming, despite having realised it is not a typical human behaviour long ago. He wonders if Geordi could be right. It is, of course, a possibility. His father had learned from Lore and given Data a long journey of development. Perhaps with the emotion chip, it is the same. 

“You may be correct,” Data begins, turning to look at Geordi. His initiates another search for sensations, delving deeper into the untouched places of his brain. Instead of allowing other parts of his mind to continue focusing on other matters of work and research and his current artwork in process, he puts all his attention towards his present situation. The room. The sounds. Geordi standing close beside him, waiting, his hand on Data’s shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. “We _could_ att-” 

He falls silent suddenly, breaking off mid-sentence. It is not an active decision on his part, which makes it all the more bizarre, and the words he had intended on saying are no longer present in his mind. He stares at Geordi, mouth slightly open. If he is capable of feeling anything, it is uncertainty – confusion at his own interrupted speech. And something else, too, that is less tangible, less known to him. An emotion, he dares to think. But if it is one, he has no name to give to it. It is so vague and buried deep in his perception of the world, he cannot help but wonder whether it was already there before.

“Data, are you alright?” Geordi asks, sounding concerned. “You feel something?”

Data twitches again, almost hoping the figurative fog in his mind might be made to dissipate by the movement. “I am unsure,” he admits. “I believe I may have experienced a sensation that I have not noticed previously, however, I cannot confirm a connection to the insertion of the chip. It is difficult to describe.”

“Do you wanna try?”

“It was… a faint impression. A sudden awareness that inundated my ability to speak.” It is not a good, nor very accurate, estimation. The feeling – if it is that – has faded beneath other thoughts now and his memory, usually eidetic, fails to reproduce it in any meaningful way. 

“You felt overwhelmed?” Geordi repeats, tightening the grip of his hand on Data’s shoulder.

“No, it-” Then he hesitates, his structured train of thought losing its way once again. His attempts to focus on the sensation overpower his intentions to speak. It is a somewhat disturbing reoccurrence. Data’s mind has always operated so succinctly, his words always so precise. Any pauses or other unnecessary aspects of speech he adds to replicate the loosely-organised conversation of most humans. “It was not unpleasant. I am not sure what it means.”

Geordi retracts his hand, and what remains of the possible emotion seems to disappear once more.

“It is not as clear as I expected it to be,” Data says, unsure as to whether this should disappoint him.

Geordi smiles. “Yeah, well, emotions aren’t obvious or… or _easy_ like that. They’re weird combinations of physical reactions and thought patterns and I have no idea of just how it’d work for an android. Maybe it’s normal if they aren’t obvious right away. You know what Deanna would probably say if she were here now.”

“In all likelihood, she would comment upon the necessity of time to come to terms with my emotions and understand them fully. I have often heard her remark upon the impossibility of ‘doing everything at once’.” It is hard, though, not to want to understand. He had hoped the emotion chip would allow him instant insight into the matters of humanity he still could not quite comprehend, as that would be the most fortuitous and straightforward result. Instead, it appears to have complicated matters even further.

“You sure you'll still up for your shift today? Llewellyn could take over for the day if you want to stay with me,” Geordi suggests. “It’s not like the Captain would mind – you’re owed months of leave at this point.”

Data considers it as he stands, straightening his Starfleet uniform a little less meticulously than usual. “I believe I will be fine,” he tells Geordi. “But I thank you for your concern.” He does not make eye contact with Geordi again, training his gaze on his best friend’s shoulder and avoiding his gaze. Despite the VISOR he wears, Data has always found it easy to recognise where Geordi is looking. His reasoning behind the evasion is simple enough. Direct contact with Geordi, whether visual or physical, was a correlating factor in his moments of emotion, if emotion it is believed to be. Until he has determined its specific nature, he would prefer to keep himself safe from its influence.

Geordi smiles again and gives Data’s upper arm a friendly punch. “I’m still on for dinner in Ten-Forward tonight, if you are. But you don’t have to come if it’ll stress you out.”

He opens his mouth to remind Geordi that he is incapable of experiencing nervousness or fear before remembering such a fact may no longer be true. “Very well,” he replies, “I will meet you there at 1900 hours.”

They part in the corridor, Data turning towards the bridge, Geordi towards engineering for his upcoming shift. His friend gives him a long look before he goes, and Data can easily recognise the deep thought in his face. Thinking hard, he almost believes he feels the Emotion return. He has decided to refer to it temporarily as the Emotion – capital E to denote importance and separation from the wider term of lower case-e emotion – for as of yet, he has nothing better to call it. Brief attempts to make comparisons between his feelings and the feelings of those whose life stories reside within his brain do not make things clearer.

“Well, see you later, alli-Data,” Geordi says.

“I am confused,” he replies. “What is the meaning of your referring to me as ‘alli-Data’? It is not a prefix I have heard before.”

“No, no,” Geordi tells him, “it’s a saying – ‘see you later, alligator’. I just-”

“Substituted my name for ‘gator’ in order to produce a humorous effect,” he interrupts, comprehending. “I understand. In that case, I shall see you in a while, crocodile.” 

Geordi laughs, and Data does enjoy making Geordi laugh. Perhaps enjoy is too strong of a term, even for an android possibly now capable of feeling the emotion. It brings him satisfactionto amuse his friend. He offers Geordi a small smile, the only smile he knows how to make. Wider ones remind him of Lore and do not look natural on his face. 

On his way to the bridge, he sets aside the other priorities in his mind and begins to formulate a plan.

*

He sits, thinking, for a long time after he arrives at the helm. The internal assessments he runs seem to confirm the emotion chip is lying dormant in his brain, having no noticeable effect. When Ensign Rao makes a joke about their absent captain that causes Lieutenant Monaro to devolve into uncontrollable laughter, he objectively appreciates her wit but feels no compulsion to join in. He would be content to conclude that the chip is inoperable – damaged somehow, or mysteriously incompatible with its intended user – but that would not explain the pattern in his mind he discovered before, the odd interruption that occurred when he attempted to ignore other aspects of his existence, focusing only on the present world around him. Geordi, he is certain, is relevant, though he cannot yet say how.

It would be wise to begin with simple questions. What is it to be with Geordi? To be with Geordi is to be at ease, as Geordi’s company is something he has always understood, where the emotions of other members of the crew can be confusing at times. Geordi comes to him in a series of images and experiences, specific memories he revisits in particular moments. It is down in main engineering, the pair of them examining the latest anomaly plaguing their ship, Geordi working on reports while Data practices the violin, dinner in Ten Forward as Geordi tries to explain the most recent crew gossip about the various relationships and fallings-out of the USS _Enterprise._

Geordi is a list of behaviours. Painting. Smiling. Long stretches of uninterrupted silence, ones that would be unnatural if they took place in anyone else’s company. Data has never felt the compulsion to fill such periods with words – he is unbothered to sit beside Geordi for hours without speaking, aware that he is something of a comforting presence to his friend. In turn, Geordi makes sense to him. There is no one with whom Data would prefer to pass the time.

Hands paused over the console before him, he searches for correlations. Causes. Factors in this aspect of the way he comprehends the universe that is a mystery to him.

“Mister Data.”

He looks up. The captain stands over him, frowning. Data searches his memory and realises Picard has been attempting to gain his attention since he stepped through the turbolift doors onto the bridge approximately thirteen seconds ago.

“I am sorry, Captain. I was preoccupied. If you could repeat yourself…”

“That’s quite alright,” Picard tells him, though he looks displeased. Concerned, perhaps. “I only wanted to enquire how long it would be until our arrival on Essen IV.”

Data glances briefly at his console. “Our estimated arrival time is in thirty-seven minutes,” he answers. He notices Ensign Rao is staring at him out of the corner of her eye from across the bridge. “We will be communications range shortly.”

“Thank you. I’ll be in the ready room until then,” the captain says, turning away. Data is preparing to return to his internal investigations when Picard pauses, having made it only halfway to the door to his office. “Mister Data, would you mind joining me for a moment? There’s something I… wish to discuss.”

“Certainly, sir,” Data replies.

In his office, Picard sits down slowly, folding his hands on the desk with a heavy sigh. The captain’s expressions are often difficult to read. He always seems disgruntled, even when he is happy. Deanna has explained to him that Picard deals with his human fears by holding them inside him, that it is a defensive measure to stop others from seeing any emotion that might make him vulnerable. Data does not fully understand why the captain does this – he supposes it is a human response that, without a working emotion chip, might never truly make sense to him.

“Data, are you alright?” Captain Picard asks, leaning forward. “I noticed on the bridge just now… You seemed rather distracted.”

“I was, sir,” Data says. 

“Well, I won’t ask you to tell me _why_ , if you don’t want to,” Picard assures him. “If it were any of my other officers, I wouldn’t be too concerned, but I just wanted to make certain nothing was wrong.”

Now would be an appropriate time for an explanation. He trusts the captain. “When you arrived on the bridge, I was occupied with an exploration of some of the processes of my positronic brain. In order to do so, I was forced to disregard other aspects of my sentience. I apologise for the fact this occurred while I was on duty. I will make certain it does not happen again.”

“I… see.” The captain seems more worried than he was before. “Is there a reason why you were doing this?”

“This morning, Geordi and I attempted to insert the emotion chip left by Doctor Soong into my positronic brain,” Data explains. “However,” he adds, noticing the flash of surprise that crosses the captain’s face, “it appears it is not functional. I am unable to determine any alteration it has made to the normal functions of my mind. I do not… feel anything.”

“Oh, Data, I am sorry,” Picard says. He sounds genuinely upset, some of his typical reserve slipping away. “I know how much that meant to you.”

Does he? Data _was_ anticipating the emotion chip highly – he was curious as to the change it would bring about, desired, perhaps, as much as any android could, the effects it was supposed to entail. Maybe it is just that he cannot experience emotions, and now, without the wisdom of his father still accessible, never will, but _he_ cannot feel sorry for the chip’s failure. 

“You do not need to be disappointed, Captain,” Data promises, taking a single step forward towards the desk. “While the emotion chip does not work at this stage, I have found the overall experience to be a useful one. It has given me cause to reevaluate the pre-existing capabilities of my positronic brain, which was the task I was performing upon your arrival on the bridge. I believe there may have been some scientific errors in previous interpretations of the nature of my existence.”

Picard blinks, frowning once more. “Oh?”

“It is a simple issue of assessing my status by incorrect standards. Human standards, where I am not human. I am an android. Therefore, it would not be logical to expect my brain to understand the world through human terms. Although I was designed to resemble humans and replicate their behaviours, I experience my… existence differently to you, or Geordi, or Commander Riker. My ability to feel may be similarly skewed.” 

“Data, are you saying you believe you _do_ feel emotions? Even without the chip?”

“Not precisely, sir. I believe it was an overly expeditious decision to declare me incapable of experiencing emotion, and implying my existence was lesser because of it, without exploring other possibilities. It remains a well-documented human failing to dismiss experiences different from one’s own outright, rather than endeavouring to understand them. I do not think I am human – I think I am an android, and I do not see any issue with that.”

“Well, I agree with you that you are not _less_ simply because you’re not human,” the captain says, seeming rather taken aback. “And you may be right when you say people were too hasty to judge you. Particularly given… Data – you may not realise this, but you’ve changed greatly since the day we first met you. You’ve picked up new experiences and- and _grown_ from them. I don’t think anyone imagined that at the beginning. I know you’ve always wanted to be more human, but… but you are liked, as you are.” Picard winces a little, like the words are difficult to say. That, Data believes he understands. The captain does not know how to be open and comfortable with emotion in the way someone such as Deanna or Geordi or Commander Riker is, but it is important to note it when he tries. 

“Your suggestions _are_ related to my hypothesis,” Data admits.

“Which is…?”

“I have not had enough time to fully form it, however, it relates to a possible reason for the emotion chip’s dysfunction. Once I have been able to investigate this issue further, I would be more than willing to discuss it with you, Captain.”

Picard sighs. “This seems important, Data. I’d like to give you the rest of the day off – the rest of the week, even. We’ll be positioned over Essen IV for the next five days for these diplomatic proceedings, and there’s no need for you to be on duty unless something goes wrong.” He grimaces at the thought. “You might find Counsellor Troi to be a more helpful guide in this matter, but my uh- office door is always open.”

Data glances over his shoulder. The door is closed.

With a cough, the captain stands abruptly and walks around the desk to pause before him. Data remains still as Picard pats him in what appears to be a friendly manner on the arm, looking away so as not to make the other man more uncomfortable with the involvement of too much direct eye contact. 

“Thank you, sir,” he says, interjecting to prevent any further suffering on Picard’s part. “Your support is noted. And appreciated.” 

“Yes, well.” Picard coughs again and holds up his arm to show Data the door, as if somehow Data could have forgotten it was there. “Good luck. Keep me informed.” The smile he offers Data is small and rare and reminds him of his own.

*

“Computer, begin reference program.”

Data sits back on the sofa, moving his arm aside to allow an insistent Spot to take refuge in his lap while the computer performs its designated task. The program is simple, designed to find whether equivalent human emotions to the attributes Data describes can be determined, using his relationship with Geordi as a reference point. It will not solve the question of his ability to feel, but it will offer an insight. Given Geordi was the person whose presence was a factor in the discovery of the possible Emotion, it only makes sense to begin his investigation there. After all, Geordi is his best friend. 

The computer screen before him flashes with a notification, chirping softly. _“The following from the category of human emotions provided align with designated parameters,”_ it announces. Data leans in, curious. The list is fairly long – understandable given the vague standards he gave it to judge by – but one word catches his attention above the rest. In his lap, Spot rolls over with a yawn that bares her sharp white teeth, mewing.

“I know, Spot,” Data says. “However, it does not seem likely. While he is my closest friend, I have no reason to believe that our friendship is characterised by such an emotion.” 

Spot meows again, digging her claws into Data’s sleeve. He ponders the possibility the computer has offered him. While it would explain the fact that he has not noticed the Emotion in any other person’s presence, however, there are issues with making any assumption. It is a common human practice to declare such a feeling on a daily basis, as a parting phrase or simply an act of affection, and Geordi has never mentioned it to him. Perhaps he believes that Data would not understand. Perhaps, assuming this _is_ the cause of the Emotion in Data, he does not feel the same. That is a less appealing prospect, as it would no doubt cause Geordi distress to learn the truth. 

He looks up from Spot to see the painting currently in progress on his easel – a portrait of Geordi himself, one Data had begun to plan several weeks ago while Geordi was visiting his quarters, sitting cross-legged on the floor as he played with Spot. From his research, Data had learned much of the best art in history is art that captures small moments, art that embodies emotion an audience can connect to. It was something he had believed impossible for him to truly comprehend. He closes his eyes and focuses. He does not think of his quarters or Spot sprawled over his knees or his conversation with the captain, ignores the hum of the _Enterprise_ in motion, the sound of distant chatter in the corridor. He thinks only of Geordi.

For a sole moment, nothing changes, but Data finds himself in a singularity of existence that reduces all else to insignificance, leaving him alone with the memories of Geordi playing like holoprograms in his head. There is no need to speak, no calculations to perform. He wants- Does he want? Does he wish for things, desire them? He does not wish for anyone to die, he does not wish for the _Enterprise_ to be in danger, he does not wish to fail. And why? He cannot locate the origin, cannot find the root of such desires. It is as elusive as the Emotion, that odd indescribable reaction to his best friend’s presence that goes beyond simple familiarity. He wishes Doctor Soong were here. There are many questions about his creation he imagines he would ask.

Data has compulsions. Compulsions to understand, compulsions to aid others, compulsions to be good and serve Starfleet and the Federation and protect his friends and himself, too. They are a part of his design, but they have also grown beyond. He is not a human. He is not a robot, either. He is an android, and still, after many years, he does not entirely understand what that means. 

The time in the corner of his computer screen reads just past midday. There are several hours remaining until he must meet Geordi for dinner in Ten Forward. It is not a long enough period for a full investigation, but with help, he may be able to come to some conclusions before the day is done.

*

Data does not often visit Counsellor Troi’s office. They are good friends and spend much time in each other’s company, but he has not found much need for her professional services of the years, for obvious reasons. That said, Deanna has always had an ability to explain the emotions non-androids experience in ways he understands, an ability he has discovered in very few others. It is that he needs today. He has searched the memories of hundreds of people, has read through poetry and literature on the subject a thousand times, has depicted it in his art and tried to convey it within the music he plays. And yet, _it_ does not make sense to him. If anyone is likely to help him understand, it is Deanna. He finds himself outside her office, held suspended by his curiosity. 

She meets him at the door when he rings, a warm smile spreading across her face. “Data, hi,” she greets. “What can I do for you?”

“If you are not otherwise occupied, I would appreciate the chance for us to speak, Counsellor,” he replies.

She waves him inside. “You know to call me Deanna. I have to ask, Data, does this have anything to do with the emotion chip?” she questions as they sit down in the lounge area of her office, scented by flowers known to reduce stress in humanoid beings. “I had a call from the captain earlier, he told me a little of what was going on.”

“It is not unrelated,” Data says. “I assume Captain Picard made you aware that the chip my father left behind is not having its intended effect.”

Deanna’s expression is sympathetic. “He did. He also said you weren’t upset by it.”

“I cannot be,” he reminds her.

“Well, I don’t know, Data,” she says. “You were pretty excited at the idea of experiencing emotions for the first time.”

He does not point out the paradox of her words – he was not excited about the chip; such a thing would not be possible _until_ the chip was inserted. Or ever, seeing as the chip does not appear to work at all. “While the chip does not work,” he says, “its existence has led me to question the nature of my own experiences. I believe I may have developed beyond Doctor Soong’s intentions, allowing me to feel, but in a way unique to my situation as an android.”

She frowns slightly, deep in thought. “It’s an interesting idea. I’ve never been able to _sense_ emotions coming from you, but that doesn’t mean anything. If you _do_ feel emotions in a different way, I wouldn’t be able to tell. Is this something you’ve been thinking about for a long time?”

“No. It occurred to me only this morning, when an attempt on my part to determine whether the emotion chip was operable led me to notice aspects of my perception of the world I had not considered before.”

“And how does that make you feel?” she asks. Then, with a small laugh, “for want of a better word.”

Data thinks on it for a moment. “I do not know. But I am glad to have made this discovery, where I am not sad about the issue of the emotion chip’s ineffectiveness. Others, though, may not view it in such a manner.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You and the captain have been willing to listen to my perspective on the fact that the emotion chip does not work. However, I am concerned other members of the crew may be disappointed on my behalf, as they would view me as ‘better’ with the ability to feel.”

“I understand that,” Deanna says. “It’s probably true that some people might not understand _why_ you wouldn’t want to be as human as possible, which would involve experiencing emotions as they do. But what they think would be best for you isn’t important, Data, it’s about what _you_ want for yourself. If you’re happy as you are, no one should try to change your mind about that.”

“I am not happy as I am, exactly,” he says. “I do wish to continue to develop over time. It is only that… I believe if I feel, I will never do so as humans do. Hoping for such a thing would not be logical. If I were to be truly human… I would not be myself.”

Something in Deanna’s expression softens. “You know, there’s a lot of humanoids who could learn a lot from what you’ve just said there,” she tells him. “And remember that you don’t need to have all the answers just now. You can’t do everything at once. If someone does give you trouble about any of this, you can remind them that nobody understands your mind as well as you do.”

“I do not think I understand the workings of my brain as of yet."

She laughs a little and shakes her head. “I don’t think anyone does. I don’t. Hundreds of years of investigation, and scientists still don’t understand half of what the mind does. It’s one of those things you have to figure out as you go along.” The computer on the coffee tables before her beeps. “Damn,” she murmurs, “that’s the reminder for my next appointment. It starts in five minutes. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about urgently, before you go?”

“There is one thing, Deanna. I wish to understand what love is.”

If Deanna is surprised by the question, she does not show it. She tilts her head, a soft smile spreading across her face. “That’s a question people have been trying to answer for a _long_ time. I suppose some people will tell you it’s something you just know- like how you know that the sky above is blue. Some people say loving something is being happy when you have it and missing it when it’s gone. You can describe love through physical sensations, like an ache in your chest or a feeling of elation. But it can also be experiences.”

“That is what I was curious about,” he admits. “I do not feel an ache in my chest, nor do I feel compelled to cry or express sadness when we are separated. However, there are reasons for me to believe I may be able to love. But I do not how to describe it in words.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Deanna says, “it _is_ Geordi we’re talking here, right?”

Data blinks. “You are correct.”

“It’s only that I know how close you two are,” she explains. “You’re different with him. In a good way, I mean.”

“Is there a way I can know the manner in which he regards our relationship?”

“Well,” Deanna says, smiling, “you could always try asking him.”

“Hm.” Data considers the possibility. There is a chance, he knows, he may damage his friendship with Geordi by asking whether there is more to the relationship between them than there is between Data and Deanna, or Data and Riker.

Deanna puts a gentle hand on his arm as they walk towards her office door. “One last thing, Data. A lot of people try to divide the love in their lives up in strict, separate categories. They love this person as a romantic partner and this person as a friend and this person simply because they exist and deserve to be loved, and to them, those kinds of love are very different. It isn’t like that for everyone. Love can be anything, really. It’s a very small word for a very big thing. So… don’t let yourself worry about it. Just go wherever your heart leads you, whatever that might mean for an android.”

“I am not sure.”

“No,” Deanna agrees. “But you will be, someday. It’s only a matter of time.”

If Data is capable of hoping for anything, he hopes that she is right.

*

“Data!”

Glancing up from his study of the fibres in the carpet, Data sees Geordi hurrying down the corridor to join him by the door to Ten Forward, ducking around the shoulders and elbows of crew and their partners on their way to drinks and dinner. Data hopes Geordi is not too hungry tonight, as he often is after a busy day of work in engineering. 

“Good evening, Geordi,” he greets.

“Data,” Geordi says, sounding concerned. “I heard from Rao that the Captain dismissed you from your shift today. I've been trying to find you all afternoon. Is everything alright? Is it the chip?”

“I am functioning normally,” Data replies. “The emotion chip, however, remains ineffective. The Captain allowed me to be dismissed from my shift on the bridge so I might devote time to investigating certain aspects of my positronic brain.”

“To see if you could get it to work?”

“No. If my hypothesis is correct, that would not be possible. To put it in simple terms, I believe I have developed beyond the stage at which Doctor Soong intended for the chip to be inserted. Therefore, our two technologies are incompatible.”

Geordi's brow furrows, finding himself narrowly avoiding being knocked off his feet by an errant child trying to escape their parents as he ponders Data’s words. “It’s an interesting theory,” he says. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I would like to remove the chip. Once it is gone, I will be able to evaluate the accuracy of my conclusions.” It is the only way to be certain. There is always the possibility, of course, that he has simply misunderstood what emotions are. Humanoids are known for hyperbole and exaggeration – perhaps they have misrepresented the profundity of feeling to him over the years, and he has been emotional in the same manner as they are from the moment Geordi finished inserting the chip this morning. Somehow, that reality is less appealing than the one he hypothesizes, even though it would make him more human than he ever considered possible before the emotion chip’s existence was discovered.

“Now?”

“If it is not too great of an inconvenience.”

Geordi takes his arm with a smile, turning them back towards the turbolift at the end of the busy hall. “Of course not, Data.”

Their usual lab is dark and abandoned at this hour, the tools from their earlier experiments with the emotion chip sitting on a shelf in the corner. Geordi turns on the lights – not too brightly – and motions for Data to sit down on a chair. It is something Data has never quite understood, but many people have an aversion to seeing his brain. They do not like the way his skull opens up to reveal the workings beneath – perhaps it is simply too horrific to them, or it reminds them too much of the fragility of humanoid bodies. Geordi is not like that. For some time, Data was concerned that Geordi’s lack of concern about seeing beneath Data’s skin was a symptom of his, maybe, not seeing Data as more than a machine. He knows that is not true, now. He knows it is because Geordi is his friend. 

“All right, you sure about this?” Geordi asks.

Data inclines his head. “Yes.”

It takes far less time to remove the chip than it took to insert it. Data remains still and conscious throughout it all, feeling Geordi’s gentle fingers probe around his mind, as carefully as if he were handling one of the Captain’s priceless, irreplaceable antiques. There is a faint click. Data’s mind tells him the chip is disconnected, gone. The world does not change. He looks around, almost expecting something to change. It’s an odd parallel to the last time he was here, this morning. As with then, all is normal.

“Everything alright?” Geordi has finished closing up his head, placing the emotion chip carefully on the bench beside them. The tiny piece of technology sits there. Data wonders about Doctor Soong’s intentions. He wonders about what his father imagined his android son would be when he ‘grew up’. Would he take pride in Data now? Would he see it as a failing that the emotion chip is inoperable in Data’s mind? Or would he be glad?

“I believe so,” Data answers.

Geordi walks around to face him. “Any update on those hypotheses?” 

Standing slowly, Data considers. “Almost. However, I require a favour in order to make any final conclusions.”

“Just name it,” Geordi says, smiling.

“Geordi, will you hold my hand for a moment?” He is aware it is not a very usual request. But he cannot think of another way to determine the truth of this matter, if not through an experiment. 

“Oh, well, sure,” Geordi replies, sounding rather uncertain. Still, he reaches out with his hand, taking Data’s own. His skin is very warm. Around 34 degrees Celsius, to be precise. “Is that good?”

Data does not reply immediately, lost in thought. He is attempting to reach the deeper, darker, hidden parts of his mind. In a sense, he is attempting to forget outside distractions. He is holding Geordi’s hand, holding his gaze, and trying to feel. “Geordi.”

“Mm?”

“There is something important I must tell you,” Data says. “However, I am concerned that it may cause you emotional distress.”

Geordi grins and shakes his head. “Data, you know you can tell me anything. I promise I won’t get mad.”

“I am being serious, Geordi. I do not wish to damage our friendship.”

That seems to pique Geordi’s interest – and perhaps his concern – because his smile falls somewhat into a frown and his grip on Data’s hand tightens, almost imperceptibly. Data does not break eye contact, wondering, not for the first time, how he appears through Geordi’s VISOR. 

“I’m listening,” Geordi says quietly.

“I would like to preface my statement with what I understand to be the usual assurance that regardless of the manner in which you respond, I do not want our current friendship to be altered. I have no expectations of you, nor, I believe, will it be possible for you to harm me emotionally. Not, at least, in the sense common among humanoids.”

“Okay, now I’m getting nervous,” Geordi says, laughing. “Just say it, Data. You know I’m always on your side.”

He may not be in this, though. He may be angry at what Data has to say, or upset. He may tell Data they can no longer be friends. However, it is also quite likely that Data is overthinking the possibilities of this scenario. Deanna always says it is best to be honest about feelings, and he supposes that must apply to the emotions of androids too, even if they are different.

“Geordi, I love you.” Geordi stares at him in a kind of blank shock, causing Data to consider that an explanation may be required. “I have determined this based on several areas of evidence. First of all, my ability to feel which I believe I had overlooked until the present moment, though it had existed for some time. Secondly, the manner in which my perception of the world alters in your presence, which could loosely be described as-”

Geordi holds up his free hand to silence him. “Data, slow down. You… love _me?”_

“That is correct.”

“How exactly… I mean, what _kind_ of way do you love me? If you get what I mean.”

“It is difficult to say. However, I am certain I do not feel for you the way I feel for the other members of this crew.”

The chip is gone, and thinking of Geordi, being with Geordi, still brings a strange, inexplicable sort of peace. He is a calming force, willing Data’s mind to rest. He is amazed he was never able to notice it before. The brightness of Geordi’s smile makes him wonder whether he ought to say something more. Perhaps it would be appropriate to describe the traits in Geordi he finds admirable, or to further explain the day’s experiments or his conversation with Deanna regarding emotions and the possibility that he, even without his father’s emotion chip, may have the ability to feel.

“Geordi?”

“Yes?”

Timing each action with as much precision as he can muster, he reaches out to take Geordi’s cheek and hold him gently in place as he comes closer. He has been in this situation before, but on no previous occasion did it seem so important that he get it right. Judging the angles carefully so as to avoid displacing Geordi’s VISOR or causing any discomfort, he leans in and presses a light kiss to Geordi’s lips. It is only brief, and to Data, it does not _feel_ to be much, but Geordi seems to take great meaning from it. Once the flicker of surprised has passed, Geordi’s face breaks into another shining smile, one that lights up his entire expression, entire being. 

“What was that?” he asks, fingers intertwining closely with Data’s own. 

“It was a kiss,” Data answers. “A gesture of affection. A sign of love, common in humanoid cultures.”

“Yeah, I know,” Geordi laughs, “but does it mean you want to…?”

“I believe I would like to engage in a romantic relationship with you,” Data tells him, guessing Geordi’s intended meaning. “If you wish for such a change to our friendship to take place also.”

In a sudden rush of movement, Geordi puts his arms around him, pulling Data into a tight embrace. Data accepts the touch, closing his eyes to remove the distracting input of sight. He rests his chin on Geordi’s shoulder, noting the warmth of Geordi’s body and the odd comfort of being close to it. The feeling his noticed this morning returns. The Emotion. It proliferates in Data’s system, a wave of tentative serenity that must be an emotion, even if in the whole wide, expansive universe, only Data has the ability to feel it. 

“You know, I think I’d like that,” Geordi says.

“I am glad to hear it.” Data pulls away from Geordi’s arms to examine his friend’s face. He seems happy. Taking Geordi’s hand again and simply holding it, Data documents every aspect of the sensation, records every small, infinitesimal detail in his mind. He does not wish to forget. Geordi seems to be happy. And, in some small way, Data is happy too.

**Author's Note:**

> Data feels things, k? You definitely heard it from me. *sigh* Now I want to go watch TNG again…


End file.
